The Cat Guardian: Licorice Stick
by I Am The Silver Lining
Summary: Corvin wakes up. She's a cat now. A big, fluffy cat with no idea how it happened or why. She thought things were crazy with just that, but then she meets a familiar face under a different name and things get even crazier. (full summary inside)
1. Clique Beginning Title Here

Summary: Corvin wakes up. She's a cat now. A big, fluffy cat with no idea how it happened or why. She thought things were crazy with just that, but then she meets a familiar face under a different name and things get even crazier.

OR!

In which a modern-girl falls into the Marvel Universe and is shifted into a cat. Bumps into Tony Stark and decided to follow him home because he's a magnet for trouble and she had a bleeding heart and a low-key-hero-worship-hard-on for IronMan.

Some mythological/magical bullshit happens later, but Marvel was already full of that before she got there, totally not her fault.

This was rotten.

This was awful.

This was fffuuuccKKKING AWESOME!

Ok, it was a bit disconcerting, but honestly, waking up as a cat was kind of one of those things you wonder about every now and then and she was just along for the ride. Corvin did panic quite a bit at first, waking up in an ally screaming and hyperventilating, which came out as meowing and hissing. But after a few minutes *cough*hours*cough* of it, she sat her ass down and thought about it.

Somewhere deep in her bring she could say that she was upset and overall shaken, truth to it, but on the surface she was intrigued. How many people would give their left foot to be in her shoes -paws?- right now? She had speculated before what it would be like, to be a fat, lazy cat without a care in the world, loved by all because she had toe beans and could turn into a bread loaf when lying down. To sleep all day and see in the dark, to get pet by egear people who cooed at her for doing ab-so-fucking-lutly nothing.

The introvert in her cackling madly in wicked glee while the rational part of her was optimistically hoping she would change back shortly. She didn't know how this came about either, she was just sitting on her couch, minding her business. Had a coffee in hand and was reading some long, well written fanfiction about Lord of the Rings. She was totally immersed in the story when suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and everything went fuzzy. Like that feeling when your foot goes asleep and you try and walk on it after. Pins and needles, but all over her body. Next thing she knew, she was pint-sized and furry in an ally.

It was actually really frustrating now that she thought about it. How did she get here? Why was she here? Where the hell even _was_ here?

Ok. Damn. What should she do? She could sit there, in the ally way for another few hours, or hell, days even, contemplating her sudden feline reality, or she could get moving before it got dark. As a cat, she probably had a million new things to worry about now. Like dogs or a misplaced placed boot.

Setting off for the end of the ally, Corvin trotted on her tiny paws, wobbling on her legs for a moment. She was used to two legs, not four, and she had to think about her steps so she wouldn't trip on the back of her own foot like an ameture. Took her a moment to figure it out, but soon enough she was on the move.

'Ok, im in a town of some sort, hopefully somewhere close to where I live.' Corvin thought, contemplating on how she was going to get home, or get help. As much as she wanted to explore the world from the perspective of a cat, she knew the necessity of getting back. She couldn't realistically spend the rest of her life like this. She had a job, responsibilities, two lizards to feed and a date with her couch and Criminal Minds. And possibly the nearest hospital.

Or vet.

Snorting at her own dumb joke, which came out like one of those cute cat sneezes you see that break the internet, Corvin reached the end of the ally and peaked out.

Shit ton of people. God. Ok, she could do this.

Corvin looked around, trying to look for an identifiable landmark but finding none.

'Where is The Bean when you actually want to see it, damnit.' she huffed and darted out of the ally, staying close to the edge of the building to avoid the feet of the pedestrians. Her tail (she had a fuckin _tail_ ) high in the air and flicking in slight agitation as she made her way down the street.

It was so damn loud, holy crap. It was like someone had turned up the 1-10 dial on the radio to 11. Everything smelled so strongly, the good smelled fucking amazing, and the bad smelled so putrid she had to bite her tongue to keep the bile down. And her sight was better than ever! She had been slightly nearsighted before, not too bad, just had to wear glasses while she was driving to read the road signs, but now she could see everything! Dust mites in the air, the fly-away hairs on a person four blocks down, the plumage of a bird 6 down. It was awesome.

She could get used to the eyesight if anything.

It didn't take Corvin long to realize she wasn't in Kansas anymore. Two major things happened:

Number 1, the buildings looked all wrong, too expensive and large. The urban area was crowded and loud, people wearing little to almost no clothing (not that she's shaming), and it was fucking HOT as fuck. Corvin was sure she was sweating under her fur, even though she was also sure cats can't sweat. And it extra sucked because she was some type of long-haired cat.

Another thing was the salt in the air, the distinct seaweed taste on the tongue that only the ocean can give. This brought a sense of hopelessness and anger to Corvin, who was a stone-cold inland, midwesterner. From the 'ope lemme slide right by ya' saying to the disgusting Superman icecream, the Great Lakes of Michigan were practically a walk from her back door. To be on the edge of the sea when she was last a bit over 800 miles from the nearest ocean, was more than slightly jarring. She would have stomped her feet if she was on two again.

Number 2, and boy was it a doozy.

Corvin had been meandering around for a handful of days, 8 days to be precise, after her realization of how far away from home she was. It was a strange experience all around. She had found out from a sign that she was in Malibu, California. She almost choked on her tongue when she read it. Things were hard the first few days, there were surprisingly few strays out, she only came across one cat and two dogs. Corvin had ran from them before they could get their jaws on her. She had found a secluded cardboard box between a dumpster and a building for that first night, shivering not from the temperature, but from panic and self pity. Thick little cat tears had ran down her furry face as she wheezed. It was a depressing sight that would have tugged on the heartstrings of any who saw. Lay on 'Arms of an Angel' and she'd been fit for a ASPCA commercial.

Her second day was much more frantic as she searched the area she had showed up at. She had ran herself ragged that day looking for a way back, for someone to help her. All it had ended up with was her dodging the Animal Control like Batman from Gotham PD. She had passed out in a different box somewhere far away, the crying and wheezing back. Apparently, her little cat body was not made for gross sobbing but hell if she cared.

The third day was depressing. She was hungry, tired and upset. She was able to convince a few people to throw her some food scraps and give her a bit of water. Eating off the ground was not the highlight that day, but she was hungry. Tiredly mowing at passersby until she was full was embarrassing.

It was her fifth day that she decided to say 'fuck it, what happened happened and i cant force my body to change back until it's time.' It was like some ultimate 'chill-out' button had been pressed. That day she focused on what _she_ needed. Food, water, sleep and bath-time.

Bathing herself was an interesting chore, mainly because her human self would never lick herself clean, no-thank you. So she found a shallow fountain and got in under the spray. Thankfully she wasn't susceptible to the 'all cats hate water' troupe and had a pleasant time. She felt fine licking herself in general areas like her legs afterwards because she read somewhere cat saliva does something for the fur or whatever. She was very content basking in the sun for the rest of the day.

Also! She had found out what she looked like. Apparently her 'inner-now-outer' cat form was some type of Norwegian Forest cat (only reason she knew is because she entertained getting one in the past). She was on the thin size for a cat, probably due to the lack of food, but she was still 11 pounds of pure floof. She was a rusty reddish-brown color with a darker shade running tiger stripes through it. From the tip of her forehead, spreading downward along her face and coating her entire underbelly, her color was white. She also had white 'socks' as they call it, while the rest of her leg was the reddish-brown. All-in-all, she thought she was a very pretty cat.

Corvin did her own thing for the next few days, exploring and sightseeing, begging food off tourists with bleeding hearts for cute cats, basking in the hot sun before laying in the fountain she had found. She had quickly become a tourist attraction, which surprisingly got Animal Control off her back. They had tried catching her for awhile, before shop owners started saying good things about her. Money did wonders, and in Malibu it was a-plenty.

She probably had her picture taken a thousand times, even posed for them, too. She wasn't all that keen on people touching her, their petting was always too rough and pulled at her fur uncomfortably. She hissed at more than a few people who tried to touch her tail or who wiggled their hands too close to her face. Heightened senses meant she didn't like that, and anything that touched her whiskers was a big ass no-no. However, she did sit still for those who brought her food and minded her face and tail. Positive conditioning.

It was on the eighth day when she had the rug pulled out from under her furry feet.

It was getting dark and thankfully cooler, the ocean pushing out a cool breeze that shoved most of the humidity away and left her able to breath a bit better. She had just settled down on a nice concrete bench, a long-forgotten twizzler stick her only company, to watch the sunset with her new-found amazing eyesight when someone sat next to her. She didn't bother looking up, lazing there for a moment, sitting like a bread loaf with her legs tucked under her. Another tourist to bother her, hopefully one who knew her 'rules of conduct' as she liked to call them.

"You know you're trending on this location's twitter feed, right?" an oddly familiar voice said. Corvin looked up sharpy and had to choke back a startled meow.

'HOLY SHIT, IT'S ROBERT DOWNEY JR.' she thought before being overcome with a meme she had seen of that actor that played spiderman in CA:CW of him also freaking out about RDJ. ' _oh my god, it's RobertDowneyJr_.' God, that meme went on forever, but it was golden.

Shaking the thought out of her mind, she focused on the icon before her. He sat there, tapping on his phone before holding it out to her as if he expected a cat could read it but more than likely doing it for his own amusement. And yes, there she was in all her glory, and was that a fucking Amaro filter?

"Be careful, Kit-cat, you might steal my thunder." RJD said with a grin, his eyes sparkling.

He didn't look dissimilar to how he looked during the IronMan and Avengers filming (to which she was an avid fan), from the designer glasses and goatee with sharp-enough-to-cut-a-man edges, to his designer leather shoes that probably cost more than her yearly paycheck.

"So I hear I have to pay a fine to touch the cat deity or forfeit my soul to your claws." he pulls out a small bag from his pocket and gives it a small shake. "I'm not one to skimp on paying for a date so I got you the good stuff." he winked down at Corvin, carrying on a conversation as if she was some regular-ol-joe off the block and not a cat. But he placed a piece of shrimp down in front of her and she wasn't going to be the one to bring up his dubious sanity.

Corvin chowed down on the shrimp, taking dainty little bites, low-key hoping to impress him with her 'impeccable' cat manners. He steadily fed her the shrimp piece by piece, not touching her at all during it. A low, rumbly purr rose from her throat (and wasn't that a trip when it first happened). She hadn't had shrimp in a while, mostly chicken and tuna that the tourists gave her.

It was a very pleasant moment, and when she was full she stood, scooting closer to him, postured in optimal petting position. RDJ let out a chuckle and gave her head a small pat, fingers gliding along her ears gently.

'Thank whatever graces that he is the ONE PERSON who knows how to correctly pet a cat in this damn city.' Corvin though, butting her head into the hand. He continued, moving his hand down the arch of her back before petting at the area right above her tail, digging in a little harder.

'Yeeeeeeesssssssssss'

It only got better when he added his other hand and scratched under her chin with the tips of his fingers, getting good between the fur but not hard enough to pull uncomfortably.

It was like the fucking rapture. Her soul had ascended and lived in a completely blessed state of being. Goddamn angels were singing, damnit.

She was probably making embarrassing noises, even for a cat, but who cared? This was amazing.

The godsend of a man continued for a good while, even allowing her to climb into his lap and rub her furry body along his as she was high as a kite off endorphins. But all-too-soon it was over and he gave her a few last pats. The sun had set, casting the sky in dark reds and purples that slowly faded to black.

"Gotta head home Licorice stick, the world waits for no man, no matter the cat." RDJ stated, "quick pic?" he leaned down, taking out his phone and putting it in selfie mode to snap a quick pic of her snuggled into him like pillow, one paw stretched up, patting his hand in hopes of more petting.

Honestly, it was an adorable picture and Corvin may-or-may-not have posed for it.

"#CatOfZumaBeach, #TonyStark, #LicoriceStick #Kit-Cats-" He rattled off about a dozen more tags, amusing her to no end. He even referenced Stark, which was funny, he emulates the character to a 'T'.

"Well, there we go Kit-cat, posted. Soon we will take the internet by storm." he crooned dramatically with his head tilting back as if he was ready to cackle or maybe howl at the moon. But, disappointingly, he did neither and looked back down at her. He gave her one last pat on the head and stood, walking away down the boardwalk.

Corvin sat in silence for a moment, a war going on in her mind for a fat second before one side won.

'Hell, if I'm stuck like this, might as well have a good time.' she thought as she hopped off the bench and padded after the man.

Said man who jumped into a car that probably cost more than her old house (and probably all her previous belongings) did. If only it wasn't yellow. God she hated most, if not all, yellows.

Sadly, Corvin had wasted precious time being disgusted by the shade of yellow of his car, so when she was about to run over and hop in, the door closed and he sped off.

Fantastic.


	2. Chapter 2: Finding Things out

Chapter 2: Finding Things out the Weird Way

Corvin honestly didn't have the high hopes of locating RDJ after that, so instead she wandered aimlessly around, following a tug in her gut that just had her moving. It was night time now, but Malibu was famed for the night life so it was bright enough out it might as well have been day.

The foot traffic was worse at night, Corvin had learned quickly. Drunk people had a habit of stumbling everywhere unpredictability, leading to her getting trod on a few more times than she was willing to admit. But, thankfully, the hussle and bussle slowly melted away to a more scenic roadway with no foot traffic. Actually, there was no traffic at all.

Wait, was this a driveway?

A single row of palm trees lined the side of the road, a meticulously tended lawn sprawled out on either side. And was that a helicopter pad? Damn, this person was loaded. At the end of the curving drive was a house. Well, more like a mansion. It was fuckin huge and practically _oozed_ the aura of money. She wouldn't be surprised if it had a golden toilet, maybe some of those diamond-glass chandeliers or platinum coffee cups. She didn't know how the 1% liked to spend their 90% of the American wealth.

Ah, salt...

Anywho, this place was very modern, all sleek lines with white marble and gray steel. The main entrance held a circle drive with a small oasis in the center, palm trees sticking up in different directions. To her smaller stature, the place was ginormous, not that it wouldn't be even if she was in her human body, but damn.

Question was, what now? She didn't intend to come here, just followed where her feet took her. She supposed the huge place warranted an expedition of exploration.

Padding around the oasis, Corvin moved to the side of the mansion. She inspected the side of the house, stepping over the lights that lined the side of the drive and casting dramatic shadows over her form in the darkness of the evening.

Sniffing the air, she could smell something familiar, and realized it was the same scent that came from RDJ.

 _Holy shit, what are the odds_.

Corvin moved to the door, sitting in front of it and wondering what the hell she was going to do next. She could find a way in, wiggle her way into his good graces. Didn't he have kids? She has no idea how old they are, she wasn't up to snaz with celebrities.

Hopefully they like cats. Maybe she could become some sort of pseudo cat nanny. But then again, the thought of tiny child hands tugging along her fur makes her anxious. Maybe she can just hide from all but RDJ and his wife? Chill like the best cat so they won't get rid of her until she can find a way home.

Now, she could do that, or she could snoop around the property for a bit…

Snooping was fun.

With no small amount of glee, Corvin took off around the house to explore.

The property was like a Disney Land for cat-sized visitors. It had so many nooks and crannies that were far too small for humans, but just a slight squeeze for her. Ramps two inches wide she could climb to the roof on and holes in the decorative roof plating (suspiciously looking like blast-proof support struts) that she could shimmy through to the other side. Beyond the struts was a sleek, modern-looking roof, mainly flat with gentle slopes down that were aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

She could waltz across the roof, down the slopes to another part of the roof that curled away from the main part of the house and overlooked the sea. From the lower angle this roof provided, she could see a pool on the other side of the house and, if she shimmied down a particularly narrow patch of roof, a large window to part of the house.

Which was where she was now, peeping like a creeper and feeling only slightly weird by it.

She appeared to be looking through a window on the far left side of the main living room. A living room that this author wasn't going to trouble herself writing about because explaining it would take too damn long. It was expensive and modern looking, it had a couch and a kitchenette, that's all you need to know. Also there was a waterfall around a circle staircase and Corvin thought that was both excessive and awesome.

 _I want a waterfall_ , Corvin hummed and hawed in her mind, scooting closer to the window. Waterfalls made her feel that zen vibe she tried (and failed) to achieve when she was human, so she had stuck to the opposite vibe. Leather jackets didn't agree with her, but she thought she looked damn good in black fishnets and ankle-breaker heels. Hippy wannabe and stripper aspirations aside, the waterfall was a nifty decoration.

There wasn't anyone in the room. Also, it was pretty darn clean, which begged to question how the hell it was if RDJ was sporting a few tiny troublemakers. Maybe she was wrong in that regard, or maybe they were older?

Corvin's cat-face scrunched up in doubt. Something wasn't sitting right, but she wasn't omnipotent so she was willing to hedge she read something wrong.

Pressing her face to the glass, she observed the room, taking in all the details, her mind wandering to the past few days as she stared at the waterfall. It was like meditation. Letting all the thought just float out of her head as she stared at the water flowing down into the pool that circled the staircase like a moat. Little blotches of red slid across her vision as she sunk deeper into the cat-trance, the blobs of color floating around the room in lazy, unconcerned motions. It was kind of like when one closes their eyes and can see a flicker of color behind them.

What sent her back to reality was the lights, the house lights, flickered for a moment. Blinking out of her trance, Corvin backed up from the window. The red flickered out of existence and she wrote it off as one of those cat things.

Looking around the room once again, Corvin was startled to see a man had been standing there, looking up at her with a flabbergasted expression. RDJ said something, his words so muffled by the glass (probably some sort of bulletproof stuff) that even her enhanced hearing couldn't make it out. No doubt it had something to do with her.

Corvin decided then that her presence was probably not welcome like this, staring at him through the window like a gremlin, and shuffled back up to the main part of the roof.

She sat on the lower part of the roof for a bit, wondering what to do next, to go down and see him, meet and greet the fam and maybe get tossed out or taken in, or just slink off into the night. But her decision was made for her when RDJ came up onto the roof himself.

"How the hell did you get here? I'm all for taking a pretty lady home, but normally she comes through the front door rather than sit on my roof." he grinned, walking from the higher part to her lower part of the roof. As he got closer she could see his grainy jeans, stained with something dark and oily in splotches along his outer thighs and above the knees. He also wore a black and silver Metallica t-shirt that looked well worn and well loved. The lights from both the large windows below the eaves and the skylights in the roof caste sharp, dramatic shadows across his body and face, reminding Corvin of something straight out of The godfather or The Addams family. RDJ did have some killer cheekbone definition like Morticia Addams.

He squatted next to her within touching distance, looking her over with a critical eye.

"You know, I'm not overly fond of cats, or animals in general. I know, crime against the universe, but everyone says I can't stand someone being more important than me in the room, and the cat always takes the limelight." he said, self deprecation and boastful ego laced in his voice so tightly she could have used it as a rope to climb Mt Everest.

And like the grinch, her heart grew three times its size.

Corvin always had a ridiculously large amount of sympathy and empathy. She couldn't **not** comfort this man.

Standing back up from where she sat, she moved closer to him, mowing softly up at him like she was saying ' _hey._ ' She bumped her head against his knee, feeling the texture of his jeans pulling lightly at her fur.

She caught the look on his face as she moved back, a curious but slightly miffed expression. Was touching a no-go? She couldn't exactly ask.

But before she could do anything, she was scooped up into a pair of surprisingly muscular arms.

 _Ah, this is the life_ , she thought, inner self-indulgent imp making triumphant heu-heu-heu sounds.

She had to point out that he smelled pretty darn good, a musky cologne that smelled like it cost an arm and a leg, motor oil and metal with a hint of what she was pretty sure was a bourbon or scotch coming from his breath. It was one of those smells that sat in the back of your throat, one that made you breath in deeper to try and memorize it just right because you knew you'd never find it anywhere else.

She settled into his arms, but it was clear he didn't know how the hell to hold a cat. Her back legs dangled in the air as his arms were around her middle, front legs held at an awkward angle. It put her whole body into an uncomfortable tension, the weight of her body focused on a single point in her back that made it ache.

Corvin let out an irritated grumble, wiggling her back legs and trying to find purchase on the man's body to take the tension off.

"Stop wiggling you oversized fur-ball." RDJ huffed, hauling her further up in his arms. Thankfully the shifting allowed her back feet to find purchase on the underside of his arms. With her claws that she may or may-not have forgotten about.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, letting her go, which tugged her hooked back claws out of his arm, which prompted more cursed.

'Learn how to hold a damn cat, you ass' she mowed and hissed up at him after she landed back on the roof.

"It's not my fault cat's are built like limp noodles." he sassed back, as if reading her mind. He looked down at the rows of thin scratches along the back of his arm, the line of the scratch bright white with droplets of blood dotting it, the area around it was red as if someone had slapped the arm. "Look what you did, Puss In Boots." he said in an accusing tone, holding his arm out to her as if to guilt her.

Admittedly, she did feel a little guilty. But it's not like she could show him so she sat back on her hindquarters and reached up with her two front paws. The balancing act was a bit difficult, and she wobbled a bit as she reached up to the arm that was very much out of her range.

He gave her a peculiar look and lowered his arm, as if testing her or himself. She ignored the expression and wrapped her paws (claws retracted, she had to think about it for it to work) and pulled his arm to her face. She gave the arm a few presses against her face, not licking it but kinda just mashing it to her face near the scratches.

He gave her a flabbergasted look.

"Did… did you just kiss my boo-boos?" he choked out, like he just saw both most unexpected and amusing thing ever. Like a flying pig or singing walrus. She gave him the best smug look a cat face could, which looked like a fairly normal cat face, because normal cats are in an eternal state of smugness.

He seemed to shake off whatever funk her sloppy attempts to 'kiss it better' put him in.

"You're previous owners sure trained you weird." RDJ said, placing a hand over the scratched area. If Corvin though she could shrug without freaking him out, she would. But she was willing to just let him think she was some over-trained cat. "Can you adhere to commands, I wonder?" he mused to her, fingers tapping on his arm like a nervous or thoughtful ticc.

He gave her a serious look, which she didn't (read: couldn't) take seriously.

"Sit," he said, with as much conviction as possible, like the world would bend down on it's knees had he asked it. Corvin, gleefully, ignored him.

"Erm.. play dead? Roll over? Handstand?" he rattled off more, seeming to grow more and more petulant with each failed attempt. It _almost_ broke her resolve, seeing those puppy dog eyes aimed at her, be she held on, knowing it would be worth it should he fall into her trap.

"Come on, you can kiss owies, but you can't sit or roll over? Come on now, what kind of weirdo cat are you?" he amped it up, going full dramatics. Talk about a diva. But Corvin was soaking it up, finding his antics humorous. "Do I have to beg? Please, sit?"

He said it snidely, fully expecting her not to listen, but too much on a roll to stop with the whole act. Which made his facial expression all the sweeter to her when she _did_ sit down.

She was laughing internally at his wholey indignant expression.

"Smart-ass cat," he said, crossing his arms and giving her an 'I find this vaguely insulting but also humorous' look. She had a feeling he wore that look a lot, if how the laugh/frown lines on his face perfectly moved into the look. Corvin's tail flicked behind her, a cool ocean breeze catching in her fur.

He stood back up, still holding onto his injured arm with the other.

"Well, I'm getting the hell off this roof, it's cold as hell up here and I'm not a fan." He hummed and began to walk back to where he had come from and Corvin didn't hesitate to follow him down.

The next few hours were a bit of a rush. A whole lot happened and yet, a whole lot didn't happen.

For one, she realized she was utterly fucked.

This grand epiphany happened when she slipped into the mansion and the fucking thing _talked_.

"Sir, It appears you have a guest," a British voice called from the ceiling, causing no small amount of shock from her furry self. More so because she so fucking _knew_ that voice, and if it was the real deal and not some very very elaborate prank, then she was far more screwed than just being stuck as a cat. And she didn't know a single soul that would go to such lengths at her expense.

And you know that gut feeling you get when you know something to be true even though you absolutely wish it wasn't? Yeah, she had it in heaps and bounds.

She had, at that moment of revelation, stared at RDJ - _oh god, no, it was_ _ **Tony Stark**_ \- in such bafflement and shock, she was sure she was petrified. Or dead.

Thankfully, Stark ( _oh_ _ **goooood**_ ) didn't seem to notice, making coffee for himself and pulling out something from his massive fucking fridge. It was chicken, she would later find out.

After about fifteen minutes of constant internal screaming, the cause of said internal screaming morphed from shock to elation. Because she was a super big Iron Man fan.

It would be the first of many that she was grateful for her sudden furry situation, or else she would have definitely said something very very stupid and embarrassed herself. Corvin was pretty sure her brain-to-mouth filter was broken and she would have blurted out something mortifying, like a squeal, or rub herself up and down him like a stripper on a pole. She was sure her dignity would never ever recover.

She was saved from sure death from humiliation by the grace of her feline problem. Instead of making ignominious noises or getting arrested for sexual harassment, she was reduced to some weird hissing purr noise that sounded like she had something stuck in her throat.

Thank whatever divine power was watching over her in that moment. Fucking ThAnk YOu. Fucking hell.

After ungluing her paws from the floor, she made her way stiffly to the island in the kitchen and hopped up on one of the barstools. She didn't know how Tony-fucking-Stark felt about animals on the tables. She knew her family and friends from back home didn't let it fly, so, caution instead of careless.

She did somewhat sit in the chair, her back legs under her in the seat, and her front paws on the counter edge.

Stark gave her an amused look at that, but she'd be damned if she was anything but polite. She didn't want to get kicked out now, not when her favorite Marvel character was there, serving her chicken on a small paper plate.

She ate with as much manners as a cat could hold, her eyes never leaving the man in front of her and low-key hoping to impress him with her impeccable cat-manners. He was also staring back, looking over her with a critical look in his eye. She knew she wasn't the most well-groomed cat, but she sure as shit wasn't licking herself clean. Gross.

The man hummed, a small frown forming on his face as he looked her over.

She felt a small swell of indignation at this, to see the assessment in his eyes and find herself lacking. A small well of hurt also accompanied it, but she was going to ignore it.

She glared up at him, her big cat-eyes making it lose some of the desired effect. Who was he to judge her? She knew his life like the back of her hand (paw?) and he had to right to judge her. He looked worse than her any day of the week after hermiting out in his lab, so forgive her for not sticking her tongue on fur that had been dragged all over Malibu.

A part of her knew she was probably overreacting (though her tantrum was mental, so unless he was hiding a telepathy ability in there...) a smidgen, but it had been a stressful week.

She huffed at him and jumped off the seat to the floor, very much intending to explore, look around and see if he had any cool techy toys she could play with. Corvin was a snoop, sue her.

Except her grand plan was thwarted by a pair of muscly arms that, if she had been human, she would have salivated at. Hell, she was now, but that thrust a whole can of worms into her unwilling cat arms, because, shit, she couldn't get laid in this body. Which was a fucking tragedy. The universe was laughing, she was sure. Stick her with a hottie she held the biggest fucking lady boner for, but stick her in a body where she couldn't get some of that sweet, sweet ass. Unless she took a foray into bestiality, but that was a heavy 'no-go' zone of thought for her.

Corvin didn't have any more opportunity to weep over the tragedy of her now nonexistent sex life, because she was being tossed out the front door.

Corvin's second discovery of the night: Tony Stark was an asshole.


	3. Chapter 3: Bebe Rexha: 'Ima Mess'

Chapter 3: Bebe Rexha: 'Ima Mess' is good background music

It had been almost four months.

Four FUCKING MONTHS!

Saying she was upset would be an understatement. For four months she had been a cat, living on the streets of Malibu. She stopped regularly at Stark's house, maybe once every few days to snoop, but he was never in. It sucked balls, and she was upset that her chance at picking the brain of her favorite character had slipped through her clawed toes.

There were many downsides to being stuck as a cat for that long, for one: rainy days. Blegh. The first day it rained caught her by surprise and drenched her as she tried to find suitable cover. She had hid under tables, under dumpsters and cars and still managed to get soaked every damn time. And it was a pain to get dry after, her floof held water like a sponge.

Secondly: food. Food was an off and on thing. Sometimes she'd be drowning in offerings of food from tourists, sometimes she'd be left high and dry for days at a time and have to scavenge in the trash or beg outside restaurants. Or she'd steal. Four months on the street gave her mad game in stealing. She was able to snatch food out from under people's noses now, but it had been a big trial and error learned skill. She lost count how many times she'd been swatted away by hands, purses and the occasional broom.

Thirdly: her fur. Her FUR, her poor poor fur. By the end of the first month, Corvin's fur was so matted and tangled she looked more like a gremlin than a cat. It was painful at times, even, her fur twisted so bad it pulled at the skin under it.

On one particularly windy day, she had stumbled upon a salon of sorts at the edge of the city. She had sat there for a bit, bemoaning that she couldn't go in and get her fur sorted out by some hairdresser. A blow drying sounded orgasm worthy at this point, and she almost moaned at the sight of a fine-tooth comb.

It was as if her prayers had been answered as a tall, skeletal woman with bright purple hair walked out of the salon, leaving the door wide open to Corvin's sneaky self. She had dashed inside and hopped onto a chair, hoping that a hairdresser would humor her.

' _Please please please please',_ Corvin chanted in her head.

"Hey Darla! Come take a load of this!" a bright, feminine voice said to Corvin's left. She turned to see a short, squat woman with short, dark red hair. The woman had an oval shaped face and a pointy chin, with dainty features. She looked like a faerie, honestly.

"Oh mah Gawd, is tha a kitty?" another voice said, and Corvin held back a hurl at the sound of it. It sounded just like when an old man wrote a 'high school' set movie and hired 30 year olds to play teenagers who had no fucking idea how the youth spoke. Exaggerated vowels, high pitched 'y's and 'g's sounded like she was choking on a rubber ball. She turned to see another woman, probably Darla, who looked like she walked straight out of a 90's kid catalog.

Who the fuck wore denim with denim? And was that a floral scarf being used as a belt? God, she was wearing chunky jewelry, too. The gaudy stuff that looked like a kid had went to a landfill, grabbed a bunch of random shit and strung it together. Jesus Fuck, there was cheetah print ELBOW PATCHES!

Dear God, she was in Hell. She was certain, because her soul was screaming in agony into the Void.

Corvin tried not to focus on the absolute tragedy in platform boots and turned back to the Fae to her left. A desperate look came on Corvin's face that screamed 'please don't let this woman touch me.' Sadly, the fae lady seemed unable to read cat emotions, and just smiled down at her.

In the end, Corvin did get her fur done. And if, in the process, she was forced to wear a metallic stretchy pet coat with pink pom-poms on it (that was probably made for the chihuahua shivering in the corner of the salon), only she would know.

At the tail end of the fourth month mark since her close encounter with the Stark kind, found Corvin holed up in her niche. It was a small space, between two close buildings, an a radiator that was poking out of one building as roof. She had found the place by chance about two months in and made it her own. She had brought back all sorts of things she found to make it at least a bit homey. Discarded beanie caps, lost gloves, seashells and bits of seaglass, some jewelry she'd found laying around, a watch she had found (handy to tell the time), and more. It was fairly comfortable, the cloth things she found made for a makeshift bed.

She had visited the salon just last week, thankfully Darla wasn't there, but Georgina (the something to rub against to detangle herself a bit.

With a new goal in mind, Corvin slipped out of her hovel and into the dusk-covered Malibu. The city was still jam packed with people, some drunk enough already she could probably wrestle the shirts off their backs without too much trouble.

She prowled the streets for a few hours, eating a few scraps people threw her way and searching for her next victim. It was reaching midnight when Corvin found one, a couple of college girls walking around outside a club. She dug into one of their purses as the shortest girl of the group bent over the puke along the sidewalk, the other girls patting her back (un)helpfully.

Corvin found a small purple and black hairbrush in the first bag and bit into the soft handle before taking off into the night, cackling internally in sweet sweet _victory_. She should have done this ages ago.

Four months ago Corvin would have never thought she'd become a petty thief. Or be somewhat successful in it.

After stashing her new brush in her little home and spending a bit of time rolling it around between her paws to try and position it just right. It kind of worked? She was able to rub her face across it and detangle a cobweb that had got stuck between two of her whiskers, so she was counting it as a win.

After that, she decided not to waste the rest of the night and went out to see what street performers were out and about. Maybe she could do a weird little dance in front of one and draw a crowd. The more known she was as 'the cat of Zuma beach,' the more people came to see her and, more often than not, bring her food. It was a win.

But, before she could go gallivanting off into the night, she felt a light tug in her chest, a small wiggle of paranoia that urged her in one direction.

Ah! And that was another thing! The weird feelings she had been getting for the past four months, the tugs in her body pulling her this way and that. And for good reasons. She dodged a lot of assholes listening to her gut. She'd almost call them her 'spidy-sense,' but since she was a cat and didn't want to steal Spider-tot's gimmick, she called it her cat-sense as a common courtesy. Maybe she could call it her 'meow-monitor' or 'pussy-perception' (that one was her favorite). She was sure it was going to get her in trouble one of these days, but eh, she was already a cat. She filled out her 'this is bad' quota for the rest of her life.

Now, the senses were tugging her towards a specific thing. So, like any dumbass in a horror film, she followed it.

She was half-surprised-but-really-not when it set her on a familiar route to Stark's mansion.

'My anti-clique sense is tingling,' she thought as she trot up the path to the giant house. 'Gotta be ready to dodge any of that shit, i don't feel like walking into some sort of tragic rom-com' she shuddered at the thought. Thoughts of overly sappy pining stares from across the room, the 'i'm just going to avoid them because i sooo don't like them' when they CLEARLY liked the damn person, stupid-ass miscommunications that could be solved if the people in the stories just fucking _talked_ to each other for once instead of gloriously eye-fucking each other whenever in range of sight, the love confessions after knowing them for a handful of days with barely two words spoken between them. God, it all made her nauseous just thinking about it.

'Just fuckin' end me if it gets that far,' Corvin thought, praying to whatever higher power would listen, 'jus' do it, mate.'

She padded up to the front door, unsurprised to find it locked, but very surprised to see lights on inside. A dim glow shown from the windows, curtains made of some rich stuff clogging most of the light.

He was home. This must be investigated.

Operation "Stalk the Stark": _**commence.**_

Toddling around the outside of the house proved fruitful results, as the garage was wide open. She, naturally, invited herself in.

Corvin ogled at the expensive cars lining the sides of the garage after wandering through the winding entrance. Impressive mechanical shit was littered about, a very fine layer of dust coating the edges and tables.

Damn, he really wasn't here all those months.

But _**Holy Shit**_ , she was Tony Stark's garage! And she was deadass certain this was his workshop. The place he made the Iron man suit at. She wondered where it was. The display cases where his suits normally sat were not there. So maybe they were in that weird suit-cellar?

She didn't dwell on it long, not when the tug in her gut got stronger, urging her to move forward and further into the garage. Trotting into the workshop, Corvin noted some things, like how the lights were dim and the low murmur of a mechanical voice at the far end of the room.

" _-it is 78 degrees out, the forecast calls for a chill night due to a cold front coming in from the ocean. Tomorrow is overcast-_ " JARVIS was practically whispering, a soothing tone laced with worry that surprised her. She knew JARVIS was advanced, but hearing the emotions? Another level.

Another sound filtered through her ears as she moved closer, harsh and heavy breathing, low, ugly sobs that sounded painful. God, was Tony hurt?

Corvin picked up the pace racing over to where she heard him (because who else would be allowed down here?). She found him folded into a ball next to a table, tools scattered along the floor as if he had fell and taken the table with him. She couldn't see his face, just a mop of greasy, messy hair poking from between his knees. His arms were wrapped around his knees, hiding his head as if he was preparing for a blow. Fuck, he was having a panic attack.

Without having to think about it, she moved over, pulling a loud purr from the depths of her chest. Cats had soothing qualities, right? She could help, even vertically challenged as she was now.

Corvin sniffed at him, smelling a bouquet of unpleasant things. Blood, vomit, greasy fast food and a sour smell she was certain was either fear or panic. Even with all that she came closer, licking at him lightly in hopes to alert him to her presence. It didn't seem to work, so she cranked up the purring and settled in for the long haul. She sure-as-shit wasn't going to leave him like this, not when she could help.

She rested her body against his legs, the ball he was clenched in was too tight for her to wiggle into.

Now Corvin had some experience in this department. Not that she was going to be spilling her sob story, but, honestly, who didn't have one? She was one of the lucky ones who was able to pull herself out of that dark place before it was too late, she got the help she needed and healed. And after all the dust was settled, she learned how to go about helping others. Having a first hand experience with this stuff did wonders when she was helping others.

She was rather limited as she was, but it didn't mean she couldn't help ground him. So she purred, she rubbed and batted at his hair, giving him something physical to latch onto and bring him back. It took awhile for the hyperventilating to ease up and sobbing to abate, but she was patient, coaxing him little by little to calm down. The sharp sour smell faded bit-by-bit.

It was another few minutes of just him shivering for a pair of whisky colored eyes to peek out at her.

Tony uncurled, his good arm (one was in a sling, she noted) reaching out towards her. Corvin sniffed his fingers, smelling strong disinfectant and a hint of something dusty under it. She pressed her face into his hand, one eye scrunching up.

He pet her with one hand for a bit, his fingers moving in soft, repetitive motions. Tony uncurled more and more as time went on, enough for her to slide into his lap and huddle against him. All the while he stared at her like he was seeing something else, or as if he couldn't really understand it.

His face, now that she could see it, was messed up. Bruises around both eyes, along his left cheek and forming a necklace around his neck. A bandage over his left cheek and one over the bridge of his nose. His whole face was red and sunburned, blisters forming along his forehead. There appeared to be makeup on him, skin-toned foundation over the burns that had been rubbed or ran off during his panic attack. Some cakey shit some poor intern probably bought for themselves from a drug store to save money (honestly, same tho) and slapped on Tony because they had no other option.

Careful not to touch any of the burns or bruises, Corvin leaned up and pressed her nose against the tip of his.

"I don't think you can kiss these boo-boos away, licorice." His voice was rough, like he'd been gargling nails and chewing sandpaper. It started her.

Both of his hands were petting her now, the injured one's movements smaller. She kept the purring on full-force, booping his nose with hers again, hoping he got her message.

 _Im here_ , she thought, _I got you_.

Corvin's whole body ached for him in empathy. Because _holy fucking shit_ did it look like he got the stuffing knocked out of him. And she had an inkling where and how.

Tony made a sound, a long, huffing sound like he'd rather do anything else what what he was about to do. He shuffled around, keeping his bad arm around her while the other reached up for the edge of the table. Took him a hot second, but he managed to stand, holding Corvin against him.

Tony shuffled to one side of the workshop, his steps slow and dragging. Corvin could feel the jump in his gait as he limped over to the couch.

"Sir, might i recommend going to rest?" JARVIS said overhead.

"JARVIS, mute: level three security." Tony cut off. JARVIS did not reply.

Corvin meowed at the man as he continued to the couch and sat down a bit rougher that she thought he should. He was silent for a long time, just looking down at her, his eyes on her but his mind far far away. She did her best to comfort him: purr against him and nuzzle his good arm to keep him calm.

"Everything is a mess…" Tony's voice rasped, "and i don't know what to do." tears tracked against his cheeks, running through the cracks in his foundation.

Corvin thanked whatever deity was listening that she was a cat in that moment. No way he'd open himself up to her if she had been human. Knowing his character, he would have pushed it down, shoved it all in a little box, and put on a mask had she been standing on two legs instead of four. He needed to let this out. If what she think happened really did just happen, then he needed to talk about it. And she didn't remember him ever really opening up about the torture in Afghanistan in the movie to any of his friends so she was happy to help.

And if he thought she was just some non-sentient animal, who'd have no real understanding of what he was saying while he spilled his guts, well… that was her guilt to bare.

"I dont know what to do," he whispered, his voice groaning out like the creaks of the wind passing through an old tree's branches.

 _I got you, i got you_ , she thought hard, as if she could telepathically tell him, focusing on soothing rumbles and soft, whiskery nuzzles against his cheek. She was cradled in his lap, his good arm around her, his bad arm held at an awkward angle away from his chest.

He mumbled some things to her for awhile, incoherent murmurs mixed with a few spare words she could pick out. 'Suit' and 'hot' was frequent, as was 'Yinsen' and 'Raza.'

Holy shit, was this a lot of shit. She knew those names and she knew what they meant. It cemented her theory that Tony just got out of captivity and this was the setting of the first Iron Man movie.

Corvin had to forcibly shove down her fan-freak-out, because, while she was excited to be witnessing such a pivotal moment in history, she also had a PTSD riddled man holding her and she wasn't enough of a douche to leave him hanging while she had a freakout.

Tony, the amazing man he is, was never one to sit idly for long. And he cemented that fact by shaking himself out of his daze quickly after her revelation.

Clearing his throat, Tony looked her right in the eyes, consideration clear in the whisky-colored irises.

"I think it's time for a shower, don't you?" he said, his voice coming out stronger than before, but still rough around the edges. He stood slowly, one arm wrapped around her still. Corvin shifted her weight the best she could, digging her back paws (sans claws) into the space between his pants and his stomach, standing on the fold in the clothing. All he had to do was hold her body to his chest and let her back legs do the work.

She could see a small quirk in his lip as he noticed what she did. Pleased that she amused him, Corvin purred all the way through the elevator ride to the upper floor and into his room.

He set her down on the bed (albeit reluctantly) and looked around for clothing. She stayed where she was, watching him closely as he dug for a shirt in his drawers, her tail flicking every now and again. He disappeared into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as he began stripping out of his soiled clothing.

Now, Corvin was no saint, be even she was courteous then and turned away from the door to give him privacy. But it was a near thing. Lord-have-mercy on her poor poor cat soul, she was only human (feline?) and did she ever want to peek at the show, but she'd feel dirty if she did it now. Like she was taking advantage over a hurt man and that was not how she rolled.

She'd wait until he was whole and healthy before she ogled, thank you very much.

She spent his shower time snooping his room, trying to find out what an eccentric billionaire hid in his sock drawers. She was saddened to find no goodies to be found, no sexy toys or even a pair of fuzzy cuffs, just some condoms and lube packets. Very vanilla.

 _Come on, Tony, you're ruining ur playboy vibe here_ , she thought to herself as she sniffed around his night stand. While she wasn't expecting the dude to have a sex dungeon or anything, she was at least expecting a little sumthin' sumthin'. Like a dildo or cock ring. But there wasn't.

A bit disappointing, but eh, whatever rocks the man's boat.

Maybe he hid some stuff in his workshop? Corvin promised to herself to go on a scavenger hunt later to sniff out any and all naughty things. But for now, she'd continue snooping through his stuff here.

If she was honest (and many times she was to a disrespectful degree), his room felt, well, un-roomy. There was nothing in it that really marked it as 'his' space. There was no nicknacks, no photos or books. Were it not for the cloths in the closet and drawers, she would have thought this was a guest room.

No wonder the man didn't sleep if his room felt this bare. Like a stranger in his own home.

She heard a thump in the bathroom. A loud, painful thump.

Corvin raced over to the open door dashed inside to see Tony slumped against the far wall of his enormous shower. (seriously, holy shit Tony, you could fit a car in there..)

She moved to the side of the glass door, pawing at the clear glass next to the downed man. Tony was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, his breath was heavy and his body was shaking, arms over his head even as the water was cut off (probably by JARVIS).

She was kind of freaking out. Corvin was fairly sure that having two back-to-back panic attacks was really really bad, especially in his condition. And, from the looks of it, this panic attack was uglier than the one he had in the workshop.

Shit.

She moved as quick as she could, greatly hindered by her small body and weight. She was just nosing the sliding glass door open, when Tony fell unconscious due to over-hyperventilation.

Double shit.

While she was glad he couldn't hurt himself, because he was out fucking cold, she was rather distressed that he had fallen unconscious at all. She didn't exactly have a doctor to ask, but she took a wild guess and assumed it was due to multiple things all piling up on top of one another at a over-heaping degree and overwhelming him. The exhaustion from his time in captivity, the stress of the return, the sudden release of the 'im going to die any second' mentality, and the two major panic attacks.

Thinking about it like that, she wasn't too shocked that he hand passed out.

She just wish he had done it somewhere a little more forgiving on his neck.

It didn't take her too long to run off and snatch a pillow, because there was no way in hell she was going to be able to move his ass to the bed. Thankfully, he had slumped against the wall when he had passed out, upright. So it took some handy dandy maneuvering to get him laying on his side with his good arm, pillow under his head (she just kinda… shoved him over? Eyeballed where to put the pillow down, then pushed her entire weight into his side and got him to slump over. His head was partially on the pillow so she was counting it as a success.)

She also nipped a bunch of Tony's ridiculously fluffy towels to use as blankets for him. One: because he was still damp from the shower. And two: no fucking way was she able to pull that heavy ass comforter off of his bed. The damn thing weighted ten times her own weight and she wasn't fuckin jacked like that, man.

It was a good forty minutes later that she sat back, satisfied with her work.

Tony's head was kinda on the pillow, his chin brushing the shower floor. About six towels covered the man, looking kinda lumpy and haphazard.

She didn't have any fucking thumbs, ok? Can't expect five star turn down service when she cant even crack open a can of Coke.

But Tony was covered! And somewhat comfortable?

At least more so than he would have been, had she left him slumped against the wall. But she couldn't just leave him like that. He was such a damn mess. And God, if that wasn't such a life mood she could roll with.

Corvin also got a good look at his body, in a non-sexual way, of course. Kinda hard not to see what's going on when there is a man laying naked on the floor and your whole body is within the foot right above the floor. Everything was eye-level for her now. And oh boy, did he look like shit.

For one: Archreactor. Holy shit, she'd be amazed if it didn't look so damn painful. It was a bright blue star in the middle of a patch-worked chest of painful, half-healed injuries, and nasty looking purple and blue bruises. His whole chest looked misshapen by the device, and it was only heightened by his frail, starved body. She could see his ribs, could count the veins against the barely-there meat on his body.

Holy shit, he looked half dead. All of her thirsty-bitch thoughts were shoved into a tiny box in her mind, thoroughly and utterly smashed down by the surge of protectiveness and 'must help this man' feelings.

She could feel it. Creeping under her skin and into her chest, snaring around her heart with burning, claw-like fingers.

Compassion, oof.

She could feel herself slipping into that caregiver role she fell to damn easily into. But she couldn't leave this man like this, not when she could do something, _anything_ , to make his life a little less hellish after such an awful event. And to all the events she knew were to follow.

And it was with a loud, put-upon sign (that was really just so she could later deny all willfulness) that Corvin thought:

' _Well, i guess i'm in this for the long haul_.'


	4. Chapter 4: Babysitting the Genius

Chapter 4: Babysitting the Genius

Corvin had snooped while Tony was out like a light. She found some grovey shit, but not as much as she knew she could have. Doors kept closing suddenly to more restricted areas and she'd put her money down that a certain AI was keeping tabs on her still. She would have been offended but the idea of an AI existing was enough alone to get her giddy.

She stayed to the main areas, walking on tables and counters to see better.

Tony had some pretty sweet digs. Everything looked and smelled expensive. It was like living in a house made of hundred dollar bills. The spirit of all them Benjamin Franklins oozing through the walls, like that freaky Vlad ghost from Ghostbusters 2. Or was it three?

Was there a three?

Never mind, she was here to snoop around Iron Man's house, not contemplate the existence of a third ghostbusters movie.

Any-who, she had explored most of what she could access by now, and was now sniffing around the waterfall she had seen earlier. Her paw reached out, sending water splashing a bit from where she stuck it in the flow.

She pulled her paw back, giving it a few test sniffs before licking it. Deeming the water to be filtered tap water, she leaned down and drank a bit. She'd been so busy with Tony and then exploring that she hadn't eaten or drank in over 12 hours and her gut was aching. She was already on meager rations that day (slow tourist day) and the added time didn't help.

She drank until her gut didn't pinch with hunger as bad, then trotted to the front door.

As much as she wanted to stay, she needed food. And Tony was going to be out like a light for however much longer. So she was off to beg food off poor saps and then she'd be back.

Corvin pawed at the front door, willing it to open for her.

Surprisingly enough, it did. Funky little AI dude, helping a sister out.

Corvin trotted out the door and down the road, her tail flicking in the midday sun. It was rather warm out, and the blacktop roads were killing her feet. So she walked along in the surprisingly soft grass, which was past her ankles.

It was so weird, the size perceptions now. Everything was so huge to her little cat body in comparison to her human self. Grass that was barely past the soles of her shoes are now past her ankles, chairs she could just sit down in where now so high she had to jump, and cars that she could jump into were giant metal monsters that were too loud for her sensitive ears.

Shit was so different now, but she was adjusting surprisingly well. She'd give it another month or two before she had her true crisis.

Right now she needed food and to get back to Stark before he woke up.

With mission in mind, Corvin raced into Malibu and to her niche. She was grateful to find it undisturbed and grabbed a small shell from the pile of pilfered goods.

She moved out, walking down the sidewalk with the shell in her mouth, dodging feet and the occasional hand reaching for her until she reached her destination.

The Fried Fish Food Fort. A+ for the alliteration in her books.

The FFFF food cart was on the sidewalk and sold fresh fish, fried on sticks. It was owned by this smarmy dude she only ran into once a while back, but it was ran by a few hired college students. College kids who were appropriately appreciative of cats and Instagram tags.

She made a few chirps, the noises slightly muffled behind the shell.

The girl who was running the cart that evening, Sarah if she remembered correctly, looked down at her and smiled brightly.

"Zuma!" Sarah exclaimed, peeling off her sanitary gloves and kneeling down to pet Corvin. Sarah was wearing a purple and pink apron over her cloths and a cap with the cart's name on it. Sarah was one of the more enthusiastic people Corvin had met in her time as a cat, and she enjoyed the girl's company.

And she gave her extra fish.

Corvin placed the shell on the ground in front of her, batting it forward a little bit towards Sarah.

"Oh, is this for me?" Sarah picked the shell up, looking it over. "A nice shell like this? Worth at least three sticks." Corvin perked up at that, scooting forward as Sarah stood back up and snapped on a pair of gloves. The girl quickly fried up some fish, placing three sticks into a small paper bag before kneeling down and placing it in front of her.

Per routine, Corvin stayed still for a moment, letting Sarah take pictures of her next to the bag and then some glamour shots for fun.

Sarah waved her off, and Corvin trotted back to her hovel to eat. She picked out and ate through one stick before the grumbling in her stomach stopped.

Still hungry but wanting to get on the move, she began to scrunch up the bag once more, using her mouth along the edge to crinkle the paper together. She paused for a moment first.

People thought it was cute when cats brought them shit, right? Sarah certainly did, so maybe she could endear herself to Tony a bit by bringing him a little gift.

She sniffed around her little home, batting over beanie hats and scarves until she found her more precious trinkets.

Sea glass was her favorite, the sea-polished glass smooth and pretty. She might have had a small hoarding problem in the past when it came to pretty trinkets (and oh she mourned the collection she once had) but it was her guilty pleasure. Grabbing nifty or brightly colored things she put on shelves in her rooms, pretty doodads and what-nots she snagged from farmers markets and garage sales. The habit had not stopped when she shrunk and grew whiskers.

She was the fuckin Little Mermaid of cats now. And she was apart of the Marvel world ayyyy.

Corvin cackled internally at her horrible pun. But, sometimes, horrible puns were all that got you through the day.

She grabbed a decently sized red piece of seaglass and plopped it into the bag before scrunching it up and carting it all off between her teeth.

She made her way quickly back to Stark's home, padded feet hitting the pavement and then the grass when she hit his lawn. She marched right up to the door and sat the bag down before standing on her back legs and patting on the door with her front paws as hard as she could and meowing loudly.

'Let me in, LET ME INNNN' she yowled as she laughed.

For fuck sake she was pathetic but it was funny.

She kept up the noise for a while before the door opened, a very haggard and frumpy Tony standing there, looking down at her bewildered.

She chirped up at him prettily, just for sass.

"What the hell?" Tony mumbled to himself as Corvin turned and picked up the paper bag in her mouth before trotting past. He just watched her do it, like he wasn't believing his own eyes.

Corvin walked in and sat on the tiled floor of the walk-in kitchen before digging open her bag with a few well-practiced head jerks (she was a repeat consumer at FFFF and the paper bag was always given). She smushed her face into the opening she created, her teeth clicking together as she tried to grab the seaglass. She was finally able to pinch it between her teeth and pull it out, turning towards Tony and setting it down in front of him. She batted it forwards slightly like she did the shell earlier until Tony took the hint and picked it up. His fingers slowly picked up the glass, his face scrunched in the most confused look.

"JARVIS, why did this stray cat give me a piece of glass?" He called out to the room.

"According to the internet, Sir, cats bringing dead or partially dead animals to their young to train them to hunt and fend for themselves. Cats are known to bring a wide variety of gifts to their owners in the same manner."

"It also brought a paper bag."

"Indeed, Sir. It appears to be from a food vendor from within the city."

Corvin already had her head in the bag again, digging out the other two fish sticks for her to eat. She pulled one out of the bag and set it on the ground, holding it between her front paws so she could rip little bites off of it.

"...Cats are weird." Tony huffed, shaking his head and moving over to the kitchen. He pulled out a pot of coffee and made himself a cup, then came back to sit on the floor near her.

Stark sat there and just watched her eat the fish, staring at her. Or more like staring through her. His eyes glazed over after a while and his mind was a million miles away, trapped in the desert sands.

'Not on my fuckin watch' Corvin huffed to herself, picking up what was left of her fish and trotting over to the man. She set it down close to him before moving in, sniffing at his face and tickling the skin with her whiskers. She meowed in his face loudly, enough to draw him out of his thoughts. Tony's eyebrows raised as his eyes refocused on her.

Content that he was drawn out of his thoughts for the moment, Corvin sat between his legs, pressing her side to the inside of one of his thighs. She was well into working on her fish when she felt a light brush of fingers against the fur on her back. She made sure to let out a deep purr at that, encouraging it.

The motions continued for a long while, picking up in pressure and scratches until he was fully petting her and she was rolling on the floor between his knees, trying to get him to scratch at the _just_ the right place.

She was purring like mad, the mouth-open grumbly snorting kind. It was kind of embarrassing, but shame went right out the window when he scratched that one spot under her chin and removed a picker bur that had been bothering her for _days_. Fucking picker bushes, man. The bane of her fucking exsistance.

After Tony found the first bur, he was like a man on a mission, sifting through her fur and undigging all the little burs and seeds that got caught in her fur from time trotting through the underbrush to get to and from his house.

"You got fleas," Tony mumbled, pinching a small bug between his fingers, rolling it between them to kill it. And fuck, she knew that already. They had been killing her for months now, biting and itching everywhere. She stopped the worst of it by soaking in water for a long time to soothe the ache, and the spay the salon used helped as well, but never enough.

"Should get some treatment, they got things for that i'm sure," he continued to mumble to himself.

Corvin knew he was probably using her as a distraction, something to hyper fixate on to keep the bad memories back. And a part of her felt guilty for allowing it, but another part of her understood and was glad it was toward something harmless.

She had done a lot of thinking on her walks to and from the mansion. Tony hadn't gotten into his revenge plan yet, it was too close to his release and he was recovering. From what she remembered from the movie, Tony had dived into the Iron Man without a moment's pause between. She hoped she could distract him enough to give him a little recovery time before the next big life up-chuck.

"JARVIS, they got flea treatment for cats, right?"

"Yes, Sir, would you like me to put it on the shopping list?" The AI responded.

"Yeah, have it shipped out asap, would u buddy?"

"Of course, Sir."

Tony continued to pick through her fur, pulling out all the things caught in it. She was thankful she went to the salon not too long ago or it would have been a mess. Her long hairs caught anything that fluttered through the wind and she often times felt like a walking garbage bin because of it.

She also felt like she was one of those monkeys on the Discovery channel, the ones that groom each other looking for pests.

Corvin snorted at the thought, the sound coming our in a 'kkuh' sound.

Tony finished the impromptu grooming session, leaning back and petting a few fingers through her long fur. The act seemed to soothe him, and she was glad for it. She'd do whatever she could to help this man out.

The grooming session set the tone for the day, and Corvin found herself padding after the genius most of the time. She'd stay back most of the time, only coming up to him and rubbing all over his legs when his eyes would glaze over and his breath quicken.

But by the end of the day, both Tony and her were exhausted.

One thing she noted was the absence of any visitors, and at first she was enraged on Tony's behalf. But she remembered who Tony's friends were: Pepper, Happy and Rhodey. And those three were loyal to the core and probably were kept away against their will. Knowing what she did of Tony, he probably asked for some space to get his bearings.

With that in mind, Corvin elected to withhold her judgement for now. She'd see where things fell when she met them for the first time.

One thing she couldn't prevent, was Tony going into his workshop and tinkering.

She was able to sit on a stool and watch as he puttered about, grabbing this and that and doing fancy tech stuff that went wayyyy over her head. But after a few hours of curiously observing the man get lost in his work, she started to see the skeleton of what he was making.

The new arc reactor.

Which was So. Fucking. COOL!

Corvin stretched from where she was sitting, trying to get a better look at the device. History was in the making and she was but a humble observer to this grand occurrence.

Watching him putter about was cool, (admittedly, she zoned out in a few places) the pieces coming together, until a familiar scene came into being.

Tony leaned back in a chair, wires taped to every inch of him to monitor vitals, a towel in his lap and the new arc reactor in his hand. He tapped on a screen for a second, speaking into in.

"Pepper, how big are your hands?" he called,

Oh shit, Pepper was here. Maybe she zoned out a little more than she thought.

After a few more words between the two and a few odd minutes later, the door to the lap opened and in walked the famous Pepper Pots.

The fucking QUEEN!

Corvin was hella gay for Pepper-mother-fuckin-Pots. She was the embodiment of girl power, crushing the patriarchy under her stiletto heels and breaking thought the glass ceiling like she was on a rocket to fucking Mars. Corvin was ready to build a shrine to her and worship her as a goddess, leaving her offerings of designer heels, completed paperwork, and the decapitated heads of her enemies. If Corvin had a voice, she'd be chanting 'PE-PPER PE-PPER PE-PPER!'

God that woman was amazing.

Completely starstruck, Corvin did not pay much attention to what happened between Pepper and Tony. Mainly the hand-in-chest, pus on hand bit. But Corvin didn't want to barf all over Tony's work table at the sight of pus (cuz that shit is fucking GROSS) so she wasn't all that torn up about it.

"Tony what is this?"

Oh shit.

Pepper stood in front of her, an eyebrow raised as she looked her over.

"Uh, a cat?"

"Tony, why did you adopt a cat?" Pepper sounded exasperated.

"In my defense, I did not adopt the cat, the cat adopted me." Tony whined. True though. She did adopt herself a grown genius.

Corvin chirped prettily up at Pepper, batting her eyes at the woman and sitting pretty while she did it.

"Why is it still here, then? Tony you don't have the time for a pet." Pepper said, exasperated.

"Wait, listen Pep, weird story. This cat," Tony had hopped off the chair and moved over to the two of them. "She's that cat that's been around Zuma beach, that one from months back."

"There are a million cats around Zuma beach, Tony."

"This is the-the" Tony snapped his fingers, trying to recall something, "The one I took a picture with! Remember you telling me it'd look good for PR to do something 'relatable' so i found that cat."

"Yes, I recall the cat, Tony. It still doesn't explain why it's here-"

"She"

"What?"

"Its a girl."

Pepper sighed, "fine, it doesn't explain why _she_ is here."

"She kinda just… walked in?"

"Walked in?"

"Through the garage."

"Through the garage?"

"Is there in echo in here?" Tony snarked, looking around. Pepper gave him a _look_ , causing to hold his hands up in surrender. "She literally walked in through the garage entrance, she left and then came back again. She snuck past me through the front door when i opened it."

"You're lucky she hasn't peed on anything, Tony."

Corvin gasped in full offence, the noise coming out more like an adorable sniffle instead of the fully affronted wheeze sound she wanted.

Foiled by her own cute cat-ness.

"She's been pretty well behaved, actually. JARVIS would have told me otherwise."

"She could have fleas, or tics, Tony. She could be carrying something like a disease. This is why you can't bring in stray animals."

"Hmmm, on that note, JARVIS, schedule a vet appointment. Ill get Happy to take her, make sure she's all good."

"Tony-" Pepper started, sounding exasperated.

"Listen, listen Pep," Tony steam rolled over her, placing a single hand on one of Pepper's shoulders. "I can't explain this, but the cat came and… I don't know, she's only been here for like a day and…" Tony shook his head, not able to find the words. "I like having the cat around, and who knows? She might just wander off again after a while, but she's been pretty good since she got here." he spoke animatedly, hands gesturing this way and that, making Corvin's head a bit dizzy by the rapid back and forth.

Pepper was giving Tony a very long look, trying to gauge just how serious Tony was about her staying. Tony was giving amazing puppy eyes in return. Pepper finally gave in, sighing heavily.

"Fine, but she needs to go to the vet," Pepper looked over to Corvin, who perked up. "And a groomer."

Rude.

"Deal," Tony said, smiling brightly at Pepper. Corvin meows loudly, reminding the two that the subject of their conversation was still very much present, thank you very much.

"She also needs a name." Pepper said, looking Corvin over.

"Easy, Licorice Stick." Tony declared, causing the redhead to raise her eyebrows at him. He shrugged, "first time i saw her, she was sitting next to an old, half eaten twizzler."

Pepper's eye roll was almost audible.

"Vet and groomer, Mr Stark."

"Of course Miss Potts."

A few hours later found Corvin in a limo with the one and only Happy Hogan driving it. He had brought a cat carrier, but she vehemently refused to get in it. It was hard and uncomfortable looking and she wasn't about to do that shit.

After about an hour of Happy trying to coax her into the carrier (and failing), Happy gave in and she just sat in the front seat. She was on her best behavior, staying in the seat and not roaming around. Happy seemed pleased by that, which pleased her in turn. She wanted Tony's buddies to like her, it'd make her integration into Tony's life all the easier.

They got to the vet and she hopped out as Happy opened the door, causing the man to panic a bit.

"Wait wait wait! Don't run off!" Happy called to her, leaning down as if to pick her up. Corvin sure as shit didn't like being picked up. Damn people didn't know how to hold her right and how Happy was aiming his hands didn't look any better. So she dodged between hands as the man cursed and tried to snatch her. She moved over to the door, hoping he'd catch onto her plans and NOT pick her ass up.

Thankfully, Mr Happy Hogan was blessed with brain cells and caught on pretty quick, even if he did grumble about it.

The vet was pretty fuckin chill, the place was fancy-shmancy with classy paintings on the walls and polished wood floors. Happy wasn't the only chauffeur with an animal. There was one dude in a suit that had a Doberman over ten times her size who woofed at her when she came in. Corvin stuck her nose in the air, sauntering past the dog with her tail flicking.

She jumped up on the counter, looking over the receptionist as Happy checked them in.

They didn't have to wait long before they were shuffled into the back and into a room that looked fancier than most posh hotels. She walked, obviously. The receptionist thought it was amusing, glancing down at her occasionally as she trotted right behind Happy.

The vet was in the room, a kindly old man who Corvin liked immediately. She hopped onto the table and sat before the man, chirping at him as she did.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one?" the vet said, the name Bermington pinned on his lapel. He took a clipboard from the receptionist, who quietly left. Happy stood on the other side of the examination table to the Dr.

"Miss Licorice Stick, is it?" Dr Bermington he asked, looking to her. Corvin knew he was just playing, not expecting her to know what he was saying, but it was nice to be talked to rather than over or about.

That was a big thing that she missed, conversation. She missed the interaction. You never really realized how much one talks until the ability is taken away completely…

Corvin shook her head violently to dispel the thoughts, sending a mental punch towards the thought to get it away. Now wasn't the time to get sad and melancholy.

She chirped up at the doc, sitting still as he spoke with Happy, who explained how she was a stray that his boss wanted to take in. How she was found and all that.

"So, ill be doing a full check up: shots, flea and tic treatment, a dental check. Were you looking to get her spayed?"

...wut.

FUCK

THAT

SHIT!

Corvin yowled out, throwing her head back as she screeched her displeasure. Claws scrambled along the metal surface as she launched off, aiming for the door.

The allure of being Tony mother-fuckin-Stark's pet was very much dashed by the desire to keep her junk as is, thank you very much.

Who was she, if not thirsty? And these people were trying to take that from her.

Trays and tools went flying in her mad dash, two pairs of big, meaty hands trying to nab her and keep her still. But she slipped through, landing on the floor and running for the door.

Happy was cursing wildly, reaching out and grabbing the closest part of her he could, which was her tail. She keened in pain as her tail was pulled by the man, the pain of it rocketing up her spine. She quickly turned, claws extending.

"Shit!" Happy yelped, drawing his hands away, four lines of red scratched along his hand.

Corvin stayed where she had been, whimpering in pain. That fucking HURT!

SHIT!

If she still had hands she would have decked Happy in the face because it fuckin ached like a dislocated joint. Probably was, because Happy was a big fuckin' dumbass cow ass lickin' mother fukin-

The breath wooshed out of her as the doctor scooped her up.

"Now, none of that, young lady." Dr Bermington scolded, pressing her firmly to his sternum to keep her in place. He turned to Happy, "there are antiseptic wipes right over there" he indicated with his chin towards a shelf. The bodyguard cursed under his breath as he shuffled over to the shelf.

"My boss said no to neutering." Happy said huffily, casting a quick glare to Corvin as if saying 'but I would'. She gave him her best death glare her fuzzy face could make from where she remained in the vet's arms, ears back and everything.

"Sounds good, if there's no other out bursts, I'll continue with the exam."

In summary, she was a healthy cat. Her body was about a year and a half old and a bit underweight but not overly so. She did have something weird with her back teeth, though. The doc took an X-ray of her (which she sat nicely for) and found out they were compacted and she'd need kitty braces placed later on. Fun.

She also got flea and tic treatment, the gel was cold against her neck and felt weird as fuck. Like a burning tingle along her spine. Now she knew why cats didn't like getting flea treatment.

Happy and her were nudged out of the office after an hour or so, appointment all done and a prescription flea treatment clasped in Happy's hand. She walked to the car and hopped in when Happy opened the door.

Next: Groomers.

Hell yeah!

They strolled into the groomers, some fancy place called 'Pet Palace', and Corvin was taken to the back immediately. Being associated to Tony Stark, even as a cat, meant that wait times were a thing of the past apparently. Not that she was complaining, but it would have been a boon back when she was human more than now. Like at the DMV.

Ooo bonus, as a cat she didn't have to worry about renewing her licence or plate stickers. Or pay taxes.

Sweeeeet~

Anyway, back to the groomers.

She had never been so pampered in her _life._ It was amazing! She got her nails trimmed, her fur washed and then combed with the finest brush. One blow dry and she felt like a whole new cat. Her overgrown fur had also been trimmed as well so by the end she was looking EXTRA fine.

The groomer complimented Happy on her behavior, saying she never had an animal sit and behave so well. Happy had replied with a tight smile, one hand rubbing at the red lines along his other hand and giving her a side look. Corvin kinda felt bad about that, but then she's shift a bit and feel the dull ache of where her tail had been pulled and it would _quickly_ vanish.

But she was clean! And pretty! Her fur felt so nice and tangle free for the first time since she got here. It made her so ecstatic, she wanted to recreate the dance scene from the Breakfast Club right on the counter.

She was practically prancing on her way back to the car, a little bow wrapped around her neck from the groomer for being such a good cat. She looked like one of those Instagram cats. Now she just needed to take a slow motion video of her walking into the wind with a dramatic orchestral piece playing in the background and her vibe would be compleeeete.

Back at the house, Happy let her through the front door and she raced through the living room, looking for Tony. She was ready to show off her new look and she expected many compliments from the genius she had adopted.

It was pretty late in the day after the running around, so she suspected him to be down in the lab. She was correct.

Tony was hunched over some sort of circuit board, soldering wires into place. She hopped up onto a stool and waited for him to notice her. She wasn't dumb enough to startle him when he was working with dangerous power tools, she didn't want to be the reason Tony Stark lost a finger.

She could see the headlines now: ' _Tony Stark: Loses Fingers to Surprise Pussy!'_

Corvin cackled to herself, gleeful at all the dirty puns she could make about her current situation. There was no end to the cat related jokes she could, and would, whip out now. Like an unsolicited dick pic: unwanted and more than likely killing any good mode going.

To bad they would all be to herself, since she lacked in any way to truly communicate with the people around her. She had such an arsenal of bad jokes, and no way to share them.

Ahh shit, no thinking along those lines. She didn't want to spiral into another meleconly line of thought. She was trying to enjoy herself damnit!

Thankfully, any thought was derailed as Tony finally got done with the soldiering and caught sight of her.

"Licorice! Aren't you looking pretty." He exclaimed, setting down his tools and pulling off his safety gloves and goggles. She purred as calloused fingers rubbed along her back, nails digging between her fur to massage at the skin beneath.

"While you and Happy were gone, some things came in that you'll be needing if your staying here, kit kat." he reached out and pulled her into his good arm.

High key, he still looked like shit. With bruises dotted over his face and stuff. But she was hoping to change that soon. After he showed her whatever he got her.

She stuck her back feet into the brace like before as he carried her to the far side of the room where there appeared to be a small cat station set up. There was a litter box and a food/ water dispenser there. There was also a small handful of cat toys next to a small scratching post.

"Now, I know it's not much, your Highness. But Pepper wouldn't let me get more until we knew for sure if you'd be sticking around. There is one of these in the living room and one upstairs in one of the bedrooms as well. Try not to stink up my house with your nasty kitty poo, alright? And please don't piss on anything or Pepper will give me her killer glare that I _swear_ leaves burn marks on my skin. Sounds like a plan, Chishire?"

She's pretty sure he didn't stop for a breath during that whole talk.

She let out a little 'murt' and wiggled, waiting for Tony to lean down to let her go before moving over to inspect her kitty korner. Everything smelled new and unused. The scratching post smelled like cedar wood and the toys smelled like plastic. The litter box was plastic and the litter inside smelled weird, like a mix of dirt and aerosol. She didn't like the smell, but it would mask anything she put in there.

Maybe she could learn how to use the toilet in this body? That would be awesome. She'd be one of those toilet using cats that flushed after themselves. And it was less humiliating than shitting in a sandbox.

She turned to Tony who was watching her expectantly.

Ah shit, what to do to show him she was grateful for the stuff? Because she was! She didn't want to be like those assholes she knew used Tony for his money ( _*cough cough*_ ** _avengers_** _*cough cough*_ ). So she leaned down and batted around one of the toys, one shaped like a little fish. She pushed it back and forth between her paws, chasing after it if she hit it too hard and sent it flying. There was a bell inside the fish that rang every time she hit it, too, it sounded pretty cool to her new hearing.

Ok, this is actually kinda fun.

She wasted a lot of time playing with the numerous toys at the cat station, even long after Tony got back to work, content that she liked her new stuff.

She stopped when she finally tired herself out, coming to a halt near a table as the small mesh ball she had been playing with rolled under it.

 _Do i want to get it out?_ She thought. ... _Meh_.

She turned, tail flicking up as she moved over to Tony. She was certain it was late, and it was time for all baby geniuses to go to bed.

Corvin sat at his feet and meowed, loudly, to get his attention.

"Mmm, Licorice, what is it?" Stark mumbled, still hunched over whatever he was working on at the time. She meowed again. And again. And again until he looked at her. He had bags under his eyes and looked two seconds from falling flat on his face. She 'purt'ed up at him, pawing lightly at his leg.

Tony sighed, long and loud, rubbing one hand down his face.

"I guess it's way past your bedtime aint it?" he said. He leaned back stretching out. Several bones popped as he adjusted. Fingers lagged as he began to shut down his equipment, things too dangerous to be left on overnight.

"Jay, project on standby till tomorrow."

"Of course, Sir."

"C'mon, Licorice." he waved his hand for her to follow. And she did, hopping up and following him to the elevator and upstairs.

In the bedroom, there was another surprise for her. A large, plush cat bed sat next to the dresser, out of the way of foot traffic. She purred as she trotted over to it as Tony went to the bathroom, sniffing it first before anything. It was always good to sniff things before doing anything with them, kept you safe and from accidently fucking with anything that belongs to someone else. Smell was also a good indicator of intent when it came to people and other animals.

The bed smelled new, like pleather and synthetic wool. Hopping in, she was pleased to find that the bed was soft and comfortable. It still needed a bit of kneading here and there to get it just right but other than that it was perfect.

Stark left the restroom, clad in sleeping pants and sling off. She chirped at him from where she was laying.

"Ah, I see you found the bed." he hummed, coming over. He crouched down, petting her a few times behind the ears as she purred, her eyes closing in contentment.

He moved away after a bit, sliding into his bed and asking for Jarvis to turn the lights off. She watched as he felt to sleep, his breath evening out slowly. She was surprised how quickly he slipped off, given how weird he seemed all the time. As ball of unending energy, it was weird to see him rest, his face peaceful in his sleep.

The peace didn't last forever, of course. Corvin was just about to nod off when he heard a whimper come from the bed. Ears perking up, she looked up to the bed. Tony was facing away from her, but, even in the darkness (which she could see just fine in BTW), she could see the faint tremors in his shoulders.

Shit, a nightmare.

Corvin stood and made her way to the bed, jumping onto the mattress and moving to the top of the bed.

A sheen of sweat covered Stark, his skin pale and clammy with it. She could see his pulse fluttering in his throat and the pinched look on his face. Corvin pulled herself up to next to his head, settling down along the back of his head and neck. She let out a deep, vibrating purr, rubbing her face along his hair.

It worked, thank goodness. After a few minutes, the shaking stopped and the furrowed brows smoothed back into a peaceful expression.

Corvin breathed a sigh of relief and rested her head against the side of his.

 _One nightmare, vanquished_. She thought. _Unlimited amount left_.

It was a daunting prospect, but Corvin was ready and willing to embrace it.

Breathing deeply, Corvin closed her eyes and fell asleep.

AN:

Thank you all so much for the support! i love reading each and every one of your reviews and i take to heart a lot of your suggestions.

Couple of notes

\- Corvin is never turning human, she will always be a cat in this story

\- Tony/OC is platonic

thank you all and i hope you continue to enjoy reading my heaping garbage pile :D


	5. Chapter 5: The Filler we Need

Chapter 5: The Filler we Need

The next few days settled into an easy pattern. Mornings Tony would get up from bed, place his sling on and slather his injuries with antibacterial cream while Corvin took her time stretching out and moving about the room. Tony tended to skip breakfast, going straight for coffee blacker than her soul. She'd yowl up at him until he gave her some chicken or shrimp from the fridge. She refused to touch the dry food in her new food bowl, it looked and smelled disgusting.

Tony would then disappear into this workshop, where the magic happened. Slowly, the Mark II took form, starting with the boots. It was fascinating to watch it all come together. For awhile, at least. There was only so long she could watch, absolutely lost, as he worked through the mechanics. She lasted two days watching before she decided to busy herself during the day.

This found her exploring the house and surrounding areas in depth. Despite Tony being one of the most interesting people in the world, his house was insanely boring. _So fucking boring, holy shit_. She was ready to kneel over within a few days from it. Holy shit.

So, to stave off imminent death, Corvin went to town pretty often. She slowly began moving her stash of nick-knacks to the house, carrying the smaller pieces in an old beanie she'd found. She put them in a small alcove she found under a desk in an unused room, sorting them out how she fancied. She'd place each type of item in different piles based on use or if they were trinkets. Sea glass and shells had their own separate piles, and she'd spend a long time sorting them out by color; arranging them in a row by color, and placing then the smaller pieces on top of the larger pieces that shared the same color.

It was a very difficult feat without opposable thumbs.

Some small voice in Corvin's head told her that her need to collect then sort her items was some sort of coping mechanism. Trying to gain belonging and control of things after being thrust into an impossible situation. Or something close to it. She knew she should probably sit down and process things more in depth, but if denial's a state, she'd be the Governor.

Tony hadn't noticed the collection, or, if he had, hadn't said anything of it. Which was probably why she was in her current predicament.

She was coming back to the house, about a week after moving in, feeling pretty good. Tony was making ridiculous progress with the Mark II, and she was moving the last of her collection over to the house.

She had the last, and largest item of her collection tucked between her teeth. It was jaw bone, probably from a coyote, and she was ridiculously proud of it. She had found it in the fotalage between Tony's house and the city. It had been dirty and grimy, but free of any decaying flesh, so she didn't feel too bad about picking it up. The top half was there as well, but it was smashed to pieces. The coyote probably got hit by a car then dragged off to the side of the road. The jawbone still had all its teeth and was bleached white in the Malibu sun, so she stole away with it quickly. She had given it a thorough wash in a nearby shallow fountain to free it of dirt and it had been her collection centerpiece ever since. She delighted in wrapping the jewelry around the teeth and placing shiny stones within it. It made her feel all mystical, like a witch from the forest decorating an altar.

She wondered if she could get some candles and plants to make the vibe complete, for aesthetic reasons. Maybe she'd get a viking vibe going, appease her Norwegian cat ancestry. It definitely held appeal.

Corvin brought her jawbone into the house, the door opening automatically for her. She pit-patted her way upstairs and to the unused room.

Her stash was in place, everything sorted and looking nice. Corvin placed the bone in the center of the area, clawing at some strands of jewelry with her claws before delicately draping them around and between the teeth.

She sat back to admire the look, feeling pleased with everything. There was an eagerness in her to find more things, to hord them and make them her own. When she passed shops, peoples purses or cars, she felt a strong, almost unstoppable urge, to take. She didn't - _mostly_ \- resisting the more risky or wrong urges. Like when she saw the shiny bit of crystal a child was holding, no doubt bought from a seaside vendor. Corvin had felt the strongest urge to go and rip the rock from their hand and take off. She shook off the feeling quickly, of course, and was more cautious since.

Corvin did, however, steal from assholes. Like the ones who tried to kick her. Because fuck them.

The next day, Corvin stayed with Tony, watching him put together the suit. Thankfully, she didn't miss him trying to fly for the first time. She was able to watch him faceplant into the ceiling and cackle at him. After checking that he was ok first, obviously. But besides a new bruised set of ribs and an equally bruised pride, he was good. He got working on the flight stabilizers post haste.

The fabrication process of all the tiny pieces is what took the most time, eating up hours of the day. Tony's injured state slowed it down even more. It all seemed to go by so much faster in the movies.

By the time night fell, Corvin was passed out in her little kitty corner bed and Tony was rubbing at his eyes with his good hand.

"Alright Licorice, time for bed. If I stay up any later Jarvis will tattle on me to Pepper." the man said, standing and stretching out his back. She grunted from where she was laying, comfortable and unwilling to get up. "Come on, puttin." He cooed, moving to pick her up. He squatted next to her, scooping her up with his good arm.

Corvin let out a merp sound, her body flopping around like a wet noodle as she refused to put effort into moving. Tony was fine with this, wedging her against his chest and making his way to the elevator.

He scrit-scratched her rump with his other hand as best as the sling would allow as they rode up. Corvin stretched out, one paw coming up and lightly brushing against the scientist's face.

"I am the Chosen one," he intoned in a faux awe voice before attacking the top of her head with smooches.

Tony was watching too many fucking cat videos.

The elevator opened on the bedroom floor and the smell of cleaner and febreze wafted through like a cloud. Tony sniffed the air, smelling it as well.

"Hm, cleaners were here." he hummed, moving forward and down the hall.

Cleaners? Stereotypes made her think of long legged women in short maid outfits, but she knew better. Tony was funny with his public image, but he took no shit in private, and she was certain he hired professionals he trusted not to steal his shit-

Wait.

Waaiiittt…

 _Oh shit_

Corvin launched herself out of Tony's arms, the man giving a surprised 'oof' as she used his stomach like a springboard. She dashed down the hall to the room she claimed as her collection room, only to be thwarted by a closed door with a round knob.

CURSE her lack of opposable thumbs!

Thankfully, Tony had followed her in her mad dash, no doubt curious to see what made her go from lethargic to lunatic in less than a second.

"I got that," he said down to her, turning the knob with his good hand and pushing open the door. She pushed through the gap as soon as she could squeeze her fluffy body through, vaulting herself over to the desk. She looked under it to where her precious collection lay…

 _ **Gone.**_

All of it. Gone. Swept and discarded by a cleaning crew just doing their job. A cleaning crew who saw her wonderful collection of nick-nacks and doo-dads and deemed it _trash._

Big, fat, salty tears leaked from the edges of her eyes, dampening her fur. Corvin's crying quickly picked up, turning from a few tears and devolving into a full cry-fest. An ugly snort-sniffle sound came from her with every inhale as a throat and nose that were not made for human levels of crying struggled to keep up.

She was losing her shit, her mind a cloud of despair at the loss of her collection, the one true thing she had that was _hers_ since she fell into this universe. Hers and hers alone.

Corvin knew, somewhere behind all the crying that was slowly going into a full meltdown, that this was overdue. Ever since landing here, she hadn't allowed herself to fully sit and have a good cry over everything. Crying was important. It helped regulate brain chemicals and she knew if people didn't cry, all those pent up emotions could literally fry the brain. So crying was good, healthy even.

Didn't mean she liked doing it.

Especially not in front of people.

"Ah shit, no baby," Tony cooed softly, kneeling down next to her. His uninjured hand came up and ran through the fur along her back. Corvin moved closer to the man, seeking comfort. She pressed her face against his leg as more sniffle-sobs came out.

"Noo no, baby no. What's wrong, baby? Why are you crying? Oh my god, this is heartbreaking." Tony continued, sitting down criss-cross and pulling her into his lap. His arms wound around her as best they could, petting along her fur and behind her ears. It helped a lot, allowing Corvin to ground herself a bit until she calmed down a bit. The sniffle-sobs quieting into a silent, steady stream of tears.

"J, you got anything, man? I need something." Tony begged to the ceiling.

"It appears, Sir, that the cleaning crew that passed through the mansion earlier today have cleared out Miss Licorice's small stash of items."

"Items?"

"Miss Licorice has been moving items here periodically over the past week and placing them under the desk, Sir."

"Huh," Tony replied, eyebrows drawn as he thought. "Do you know what happened to the items?"

"They were taken with the van, Sir."

"Shit,"

"If you'd like, i can review the footage and compile a list of the items."

"That'd be perfect, thanks J. And see if you can get the stuff back from the cleaning crew if they haven't already tossed them."

"Of course, Sir."

Tony looked down at her, "hear that, Licorice? We're getting your stuff back, baby, or new ones. I promise."

It… sounded good. Really good. Especially to her now tired self, all cried out. Her sluggish mind tried to, for a moment, just marvel at the generosity of this man. She was a fucking cat, and Tony was trying to give her back her trinkets. She wasn't even a human person and he was going above and beyond to make her happy.

' _The world does not deserve you, Anthony Edward Stark.'_ she thought to herself, nestling herself deeper into his arms, silently vowing to protect this cinnamon roll of a man from future shit.

Corvin's tears had finally subsided, but her face was still wet and she even had slobber coming out of her mouth. Maybe even snot from her tiny nose, but she couldn't see.

"C'mon baby, lets go get you cleaned up." the godsend that was Tony said. He stood up carefully, holding her close to his good side. She helpfully wiggled her back feet into the edge of her belt as usual and he carried her from the room, down to his, and then straight into the bathroom.

Not once did he put her down, not even when he reached for a towel with his bad arm, leaning over at an awkward angle as to not over extend the arm. Tony toweled off her damp face, gentle around her eyes and whiskers. Corvin made sure to lean to a helpful angle.

When he was all done getting what he could, Tony placed the towel down on the closed toilet seat and got a wash rag, dampened it, then repeated the motions. The second go through got off the rest of the slobber and snot that had been clinging to her fur and Corvin was grateful.

Tony just stood there after getting done and throwing the soiled cloth in the hamper. He looked down at her and she looked up at him, her eyes still watery but clearing.

He let out a long sigh, "Guess we're both a little messed up, huh Licorice Stick?" he smiled softly, his bad hand reaching up and scratching behind her ear as best it could. Corvin replied with a very small, tired meow.

"Lets go to bed now, it's been a long day."

Tony carried her back into his room, not bothering to place her into her cat bed, instead just setting her down on his. He quickly discarded his sling and put on some more antibacterial cream before climbing into bed. He snuggled up next to her, her small furry form wedged between his good arm and his side as he settled in.

A hand gave her little scratches on the head for awhile after as they both laid there and Corvin felt odd. She had just bonded a little with a man she couldn't even fully communicate with. She felt closer to Tony now after her breakdown, kin-ship even. And maybe Tony felt it too, if the way he was cuddling her was any indication.

It was a nice feeling; it was a platonic bond, and a strong one at that.

Corvin could feel it, down in her bones, that she and Tony would only get closer as the future unfolded.


	6. PSA from Licorice

Snippet Of Current Events:

Corvin was in hiding. Slowly moving about the room under furniture and thus, out of site of the ever present eyes of Jarvis. She needed time, time to escape from the madman that invaded her home, her space, her life-

"LICORICE! LIIIIICORIIIICCEEEE!"

Oh No. He draws close, too close.

She scurried under the table she had been hiding under, to under the couch. She moved as quietly as she could, listening closely as footsteps moved past her hiding spot and around the room.

"Baby come out, i'm BORED." he whined, stalking across the room like a predator, weapon in hand. She could hear him wave the weapon around, the whooshing of air accompanied by a faint jingle.

She was being hunted, at any moment she would be found. Then she'd never escape…

All went quiet.

Tooooo quiet…

.

.

.

.

Where the fuck was he? Oh shit, don't tell her that he-

"Found you!"

 **FUUUCK!**

Corvin scrambled, claws scraping against wooden flooring as she made a mad dash from under the couch to the door. Her floof weighed her down, but she was determined. She was almost there, to the door, when she was caught by her hunter. Strong hands scooped her up from the sides, careful to avoid her wild flailing of claws.

"Gotcha, kitty! Time to spend time with me!" Tony chirped at her, folding her into his arms. The cat toy he was holding jingled again as he adjusted his grip on her.

Ever since the quarantine, Tony had been around a lot more. Unable to leave the house, he spent most of his time in the lab, but Pepper was quick to put a time limit to how long he could be down there. Four hours in the lab equaled one hour doing other things.

Tony spent the first 2 days down there interrupted before Jarvis kicked him out. Now he had to spend 12 hours upstairs.

Tony spent the first 5 sleeping, he spent the next 4 bugging her. She had 3 more hours to get through before she'd be blessed with solitude. She loved Tony, but she was very much used to him being concentrated on other things than her when they were together; his suits, the company, other people, etc. Having his direct attention on her for such a long period of time was wearing down her social battery faster than a double A in a nymphomaniac's vibrator.

'GIVE ME REPRIEVE,' she screeched to the universe as Tony dangled the fuzzy cat toy above her face, attempting to entice her into playing. As if she didn't spend the last four hours doing just that to appease the man!

She groaned in defeat as the mechanic carried her from the room... Her only hope was that she could hold out until the quarantine was lifted...

AN: Check out this story on AO3! it put a lot of art within the chapters (This site doesn't really let me do that)

Thank you and stay safe!


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